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PROLOGUE

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The sky was coal black, with clashes of lightening and rain mixed together with thunder... Shadows of the branches belonging to an old oak tree banged against the glass window, like crude phantoms trying to force entrance.

But those woes were nothing compared to the treachery, eighteen year old Vesta Slytherin was facing.

"How dare you deceive me with such a hideous lie?" spat a voice belonging to a tall blond haired man with flashing green eyes.

"I loved you! It's so hard to explain Tom, but I didn't want to lose you! Please understand..." pleaded Vesta, her dark curls matted with perspiration and the obvious swell in her stomach heaving...

"It's all over! You are nothing but a lying, low life creature that probably belongs to some bloody cult! I won't father a child of such bad blood! Get out before I throw you out myself!"

"Tom, please..."

"Do I need to exercise my words into action?"

"But Tom, I've nowhere else to go! You're my only family! Besides don't you love me even a little bit?"

"Then go to some ditch and rot! And love?" A loud laugh rang out echoing sinisterly.

"Please Tom, think of the baby in me..." pleaded Vesta, falling on her knees but a strong hand clutched her roughly by her arm and dragged her on the floor.

"For the sake of humanity, please don't!"

"Humanity? You aren't a human! You're a witch! Before I plan to burn you, just like the way it's supposed to be done; get gone from here!"

With that he opened the door and pushed Vesta out into the heavy rain, despite her tears and pleas to reconsider his thoughts.

Sobbing, she buried her face in her hands as the door slammed shut.

Vesta felt extremely alone... Her family was long dead, after being sentenced to Azkaban for a guilt they hadn't committed. The only person who had lived long enough to take care of her was her grandfather Marvolo Slytherin... But he too had died just before Vesta's marriage due to being hit by an Avada Kedavra spell, performed by a wizard named Kenneth Potter.

However, the loss of her beloved grandfather's death hadn't been so harsh because she believed that she had a loving husband and a future family to look forward to; now all that was vanquished into zilch.

Rising up, Vesta trudged through the rain, dragging her heavy feet with an equally heavy heart but abruptly a wave of nausea washed over her and she vomited, grasping her stomach while breathing with great difficulty.

"Oh Merlin! Another one month to go," she whispered wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, before taking one last look at the manor which had been her home for two years...

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The ninth month of pregnancy had been the longest and the most miserable period in Vesta's life ever. She had done all that she could to keep bread on the table and coal in her stove...But now as she lay in her bed, twisting with agony; Vesta felt no hope for the future.

"She's lapsing in and out of consciousness," whispered a hushed voice of a midwife who had been staying close to Vesta the whole day.

"It's going to be a long, hard labor," replied an old lady, who had taken in Vesta from the streets when she had lain fainted.

"Tom..."

With a sigh the old lady turned towards her fellow helping hand.

"Bertha, the child simply keeps on murmuring that name..."

"Yes Mrs. Smith, she never utters a single word except for that... Who do you reckon he is?"

"I wish I knew dear..." came in the reply as the elder woman sat on the bed staring at the bedridden young lady with an unknown identity.

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Vesta had never imagined such pain. For one endless night and day contractions racked her body, threatening to snap her slender frame in two.

"Only a Mother knows the indescribable ache of bringing a child into this world," thought Vesta, gritting her teeth to prevent screams erupting out of her mouth.

The pain went on and on and her labor didn't seem to progress, no matter how hard she breathed and strained.

The clock struck twelve, and it was midnight; the beginning of a brand new day

"Twenty four hours," thought Vesta panting and dazed. "How much longer can I take this?"

Vesta's two unknown benefactors were there with her all the time. Now Bertha mopped Vesta's sweating forehead with a cool damp cloth. "Your body is ready-it's time to push. When the next contraction comes, bear down with all your might."

The contraction came and Vesta tried to push but she was too weak. "I can't," she sobbed. "I have no strength."

"You must," said Mrs. Smith, gently but firmly. "This baby wants to be born!"

Vesta endured another hour of sheer agony, pushing as hard as she could while Mrs. Smith and Bertha urged her on. "You're almost there, dear!" Bertha cried.

Groans tore through her body constantly, and her bones felt very brittle. Vesta knew that she could have used magic, but she had no idea where her wand was, nor did she know where she was for that fact.

All around her, the figures grew blurred but at one point, through the fog, she thought she heard Bertha say, "I've never seen such a difficult labor. She lost so much blood. What if we lose her and the baby too?"

Vesta grabbed Mrs. Smith's hand. "My baby," she moaned. "Don't let my baby die."

"Hush," replied Mrs. Smith. "You'll both be fine. One more push and you can do it."

Vesta squeezed her eyes shut, tears streaming down her face. A scream ripped from her. And then there was another sound in the room, the happiest sound of all. The first wails of a newborn baby.

Vesta felt no more pain. Her body felt numb and light, as if it were floating. Her vision was still hazy, but dimly she could see Bertha's beaming face. "You have a son, dearest."

"A son." Vesta's failing heart gave one stronger beat. Joy and peace filled her soul. Vesta tried to hold out her arms but couldn't lift them. Bertha laid the swaddled infant on the bed next to its mother. Vesta managed to move her hand enough to stroke the tiny boy's downy raven hair.

Tears spilled from her eyes. "He's so beautiful, so perfect," she whispered. "It's a miracle."

She lifted her eyes to the window next to her bed. Mrs. Smith had pulled back the curtain. The predawn sky was filled with twinkling stars. Vesta looked back at her baby. With what little strength remained in her, she uttered her last words. "His name," she said, gazing into her baby's eyes, which were hazel like the approaching dawn, "will be Tom Marvolo Riddle, linking to the two people I loved most in this world..."

Nevertheless when Bertha bent down to pick the infant out from his Mother's embrace; much to her horror it hissed like a serpent unlike ordinary children...

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A/N: Will continue soon as possible.